


habits (how can i say)

by jjeuwi



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, i dont know, i got emo and this was the product of it??, sorry if its terrible i wasnt sure if i should publish this in the first place, uhhhh, what im doing??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:30:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjeuwi/pseuds/jjeuwi
Summary: Nayeon confesses to falling out of love and Momo’s habits only get worse.





	habits (how can i say)

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, this was just a drabble that i started writing out of boredom  
> and i wasnt so sure if i should even publish this in the first place  
> because im working on something else but im getting writers block on that lmao  
> but i guess ill publish this just for the sake of it  
> i know it's not the best ive written and there's really no basis for it but,,  
> there you go??  
> enjoy ? ?
> 
> (also based on day6's habit and how can i say bc i've been listening to them too much lately)

—

If there’s one thing Momo could admit to hating about Nayeon, it’s that she could never make up her mind, _about anything._ Because Momo’s left to decide for her and she just doesn’t know what’s racking inside Nayeon’s brain.

Today’s the same.

“Actually, I think I might want pizza tonight,” Nayeon says, tucked away under her pink blanket on the couch and Momo peers from the other side of the kitchen wall, on the phone with a Chinese restaurant because just seconds ago she claimed to craving orange chicken. And whatever Nayeon says, goes because Momo doesn’t care about food. She cares about Nayeon.

“I already ordered Chinese!” She rolls her eyes, covering the mic so that the lady wouldn’t hear their upcoming bickering. Nayeon only waves her hand so as to shoo away the girl because she’d rather not fight today.

The pizza comes anyways, because Momo’s just that willing to make Nayeon satisfied and there’s really not much she could vouch for so they’re sitting in the middle of the living room, half-eaten box of pizza on the table and a nearly empty Chinese take-out sitting on Nayeon’s lap. (Because as it turns out, she _did_ crave orange chicken and Momo’s practically the only one to eat the pizza.)

Momo’s hand searches for Nayeon’s because it’s a _habit_ to hold them in her’s, to squeeze them lightly (it’s her way of saying _I love you, you know that right?_ ). And Nayeon knows that when Momo’s hand pats and skims around her lap, it’s because she’s looking for them. So she takes initiative and they almost always find their way to Momo’s.

Momo gives it a light squeeze and Nayeon does the same (it’s like their own ‘ _Okay? Okay.’_ ). And there’s an unknowing smile playing on their lips as they watch Nayeon’s favorite show.

 

It’s simple, just the way Momo likes it.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think I’d make a great singer?” Nayeon asks, belting a note in the melody and Momo nods because she _does_ think Nayeon’s a great singer. She thinks Nayeon’s great at anything she does. Because the girl’s practically a living masterpiece and in Momo’s eyes she’s art, the type that neither Picasso nor Van Gogh could reciprocate.

“You really think so?” She glances over her shoulder to Momo who’s busy stroking her hair which she so dearly loves, the way those slender fingers comb gently through her perfectly tousled hair. It almost makes her want to stay forever.

 

But there’s no forever.

 

“Of course!” Momo exclaims, shooting her a cheeky smile and Nayeon turns to hug her, proceeding to tuck herself in the nook of Momo’s neck, just below her chin, lips kissing her skin. Momo’s arms wrap themselves around her like a routine, like a _habit_ .

One night she feels Nayeon’s hot tears sting her cheek, which comes off as a surprise because she’s crying out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, waking Momo from her sleep, “What’s wrong?”

Nayeon shakes her head, swallowing back a thousand sobs because it hurts more when Momo asks _what’s wrong_ in her voice, in her _soft, loveable_ voice. Nayeon merely succumbs to the tsunami in her eyes as they stain Momo’s pink pajamas, as Momo holds her tightly, like a routine, like a _habit_.

“I’m sorry,” is all she could manage through her ugly, loud sobbing against Momo’s chest and Momo doesn’t know what it’s all about but she doesn’t have to, she doesn’t care. She just wants to dry the tears and make Nayeon happy again as if it’s her sole purpose (it is).

When she finally gets Nayeon to calm down, when Nayeon’s finally cried herself to sleep, Momo’s up making breakfast. Because the girl she so dearly loves had not fallen asleep till the crack of dawn and Momo’s last resort to making that smile reappear is to make her girlfriend’s favorite french toast.

Nayeon drags the blanket along with her, in her dazy state, rubbing her eyes open. And Momo smiles at the sight because she’s so beautiful with her half-asleep figure trudging over to collect a hug because perhaps the bed was too cold without her (and it was).

Momo doesn’t ask about last night. Because it doesn’t matter.

“Did you make this?” Nayeon asks in her husky, morning voice, still tightly hugging the girl and Momo nods, pressing soft kisses on the girl’s forehead which makes Nayeon smile. And Momo’s got no idea that’s the last time she’ll ever see it.

 

* * *

 

 

“Momo,” Nayeon says, not meeting her gaze because perhaps that’s for the better and Momo merely turns her attention to the girl, dropping her phone on her lap because Nayeon deserves all her attention, she thinks so anyways, “What is it?”

Nayeon feels Momo’s hand search for her’s until they clasp together, like a _habit_. And Nayeon’s supposed to feel something when the girl squeezes her hand, which she doesn’t reciprocate because she’s afraid she won’t mean it then.

She’s supposed to feel something when she finally meets Momo’s eyes, her beautiful brown eyes which held their own galaxies. And she wishes there’s no love in them. Because she’s supposed to feel butterflies when the words _I love you_ fall from Momo’s lips onto her shirt as she holds her that close. She’s supposed to want to kiss her.

 

Except she doesn’t.

 

Because she’s afraid she won’t mean them like she used to and Momo’s still staring at her and she hates it so much it almost makes her want to cry again so she bites back the wave, the oceans of tears that try to squeeze from her eyes. Because how can she say she doesn’t love the girl before her eyes? Like this:

 

“I don’t love you anymore.”

 

And Momo laughs because it’s a joke, it must be right? She kisses the back of Nayeon’s clasped hand and squeezes them. But when the latter goes limp, when she doesn’t squeeze back and only stares at her with sullen eyes, _it’s not a joke is it?_

 

“I'm not happy anymore.”

 

Sure, it’s just as hard for Nayeon because Momo’s so perfect, she’s everything and a half to her but something’s changed. Like a thunderclap, like blink or shot in the wind, Nayeon’s heart stirred a different direction.

She slips right through her fingers and Momo’s not stopping her because whatever she says, goes. She doesn’t need an explanation, she doesn’t _want_ an explanation. She figures it’ll only hurt more when she hears why. So she’s sitting on the empty couch because Nayeon’s gone and there’s her favorite show on the tv only now she’s watching it alone.

 

_She’s searching for Nayeon’s hands._

 

But they’re nonexistent on her lap and it’s a habit for her to because they’ve only ever known those soft palms. And every morning that Nayeon’s gone, Momo prepares everything in two’s. Because it’s a habit to drink coffee with her, eat with her, sleep with her.

And when it’s the pillow she’s hugging and not Nayeon, Momo only curses the heavens for the sleepless nights. Because the girl she loves traded her in like a merchant in the market and she’s sold, abandoned.

“Do you think I wanted to leave you?” Nayeon says over the phone and Momo can tell she’s biting back tears as her voice wavers, “I didn’t want to leave you, you were everything to me.”

“Were,” Momo mumbles and Nayeon stays silent, because it’s the past and it’s not now and Momo’s heart sorta sinks to her stomach when she hears the words because she says she doesn’t need an explanation, but she does.

“Sorry, I have to go now,” Nayeon sighs and the end tone when she hangs up is the last thing that rings in Momo’s mind because _I don’t love you anymore_ had only been there for weeks.

 

When Momo walks down the street to their favorite cafe, she finds herself searching for Nayeon’s hands again and out of habit she orders a latte Nayeon, which she ends up giving to the cute cashier.

Momo expects to come home to Nayeon only to be met with the lack of presence, the dull and dingy atmosphere which loneliness created each time she comes home. And Momo misses Nayeon without a doubt, because everything’s about her, almost always.

The habits worsen when Nayeon’s hands are nowhere to be seen, when Nayeon’s laugh doesn’t echo in the empty bedroom, when the tv volume isn’t all the way up like it used to be, playing Nayeon’s favorite show in the dim darkness.

And Momo tries again at the cafe, it’s a step for not ordering two, it’s a step when she’s looking for Nayeon’s hands only to feel different ones clasp against her’s. And then she looks up, meeting gazes with the cute cashier who's probably had enough of the same latte every morning.

 

“I’m Sana.”

  
  
Momo’s found her new habit.

**Author's Note:**

> i love you, onces


End file.
